


Survivor: Icicle Inn

by karanguni



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: AU, Gen, Humour, M/M, random guest apperances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-27
Updated: 2010-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karanguni/pseuds/karanguni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tseng is going to have to outwit, outplay and outlast whether he likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor: Icicle Inn

They signed him up for it as prank; well, sort of.

Some of it was for a good laugh: Reno trailed him around the office with a camera taking shots of Tseng delivering corporate justice to quaking junior litigators. Never mind the tricky legal question of whether that counted as an invasion of privacy, Tseng looked _good_ when he glared at the interns who didn't get the memos done up right and even _better_ when he spoke to the other senior partners and made them leave the boardroom looking harried and, in some cases, ready to burst out into tears. So they weren't going to be able to put in an application video where Tseng was hunting wild boar or gutting fish out in the wild: what did that matter when Reno could edit up a three minute clip of Tseng ripping off the balls of every well-paid Shinra and Shinra, LLP. executive?

He sat with Rufus in an empty boardroom at 9 that night and filled out the forms - the other reason why they were doing this was because Tseng was starting to go a bit mental at the edges. He hadn't taken a day off in three? four? years? Or a sick day, and if Reno was going to be the judge here, probably not even a coffee break. Several weeks spent eking it out on a desert/tropical island/mosquito-infested death trap sounded like just the thing.

Rufus proposed it first. Let it not be said that Shinra men do not have sick senses of humour.

'What's his marital status?' Reno quipped at Rufus as he put down the finicky biographical bits.

Rufus pulled the sheet over with that calm-bastard facade of his. 'I'll fill that in,' the attorney said, giving Reno another sheet. Damn possessive son of a bitch.

'If only the real world knew how lunatics run this place,' Reno sighed lazily, looking down and inventing a horrible set of hobbies for Tseng. He put down "cock sucking" and cancelled it out in such a way that anyone'd still be able to see what was written there.

Rufus filled in Tseng's education records and ignored Reno's comments. _Highest level of education: Masters in..._

'"Are you a vegetarian or do you eat meat?"' Reno read aloud. He paused. 'Think I could get away with it if I put down "maneater" instead?'

'Omnivorous is the politically correct term,' Rufus replied mildly.

  
They hadn't expected him to actually get _shortlisted_.

'What is this?' Tseng said to Reno in that voice that heralded, if not extreme pain, then at least prolonged suffering.

'Uh,' Reno said, staring in blind panic at the _Survivor: Icicle Inn_ emblem all over the rather official looking document in Tseng's hand. Rufus had just walked out of his office to see what all the commotion was about. With all the artistry and skill of a true criminal defence lawyer, Reno pointed, said 'Ask him, not me,' and fled.

But not very far - just to behind the water cooler, really - because he wanted to see how Rufus was going to get out of this one.

'Sir,' Tseng ground out, and Reno knew someone was going to be sleeping on the floor for the next two weeks.

'Oh, it's come back already?' was Rufus' reply, and Reno had to give the president points for sheer balls. Rufus took the document (it was crinkled at the top where Tseng's fingers had gripped a little too tightly) and flipped through it, making small interested noises every once in a while.

Tseng looked ready to unleash unholy murder.

'Congratulations,' Rufus said, passing Tseng back the acceptance sheet. 'Looks like there'll be a trip down to the studios at the Saucer for you, won't there? Best arrange your days off. Don't worry, you've got plenty.'

'Rufus,' Tseng said, and if he was using the boss's name in the office then sparks were really going to fly.

Rufus furrowed his brow as if confused over Tseng's anger. 'Well, admittedly I'd already planned a two month sabbatical for you effective June, but since this has come up I don't see why you shouldn't go for it. It's a,' Rufus referenced the papers, Tseng's glare rolling off him, 'six week filming. Gives you another two to relax and unravel afterwards - if you don't get voted off first.'

'I am writing in,' Tseng said, very much in control of himself, 'and pulling out.'

'Can't do that, I'm afraid,' Rufus said, shrugging.

'What?'

'It's in the legal fine print,' Rufus admonished, as if disappointed that Tseng hadn't noticed before. 'Prospective participants are legally bound upon the submission of their initial application. Withdrawal is out of the question barring life-threatening injury or loss of immediate family. You'd get sued, at the very least, if you even tried. And I'd really rather you not bring that kind of attention to our firm.'

'What kind,' Tseng snarled, unravelling further now than Reno'd ever seen him, 'of production company requires that level of binding legality from their applicants?'

'Well,' Rufus smiled, 'Shinra and Shinra was the one to draft the agreement for the studio.'

Reno, from his hiding place, made a mental note (not for the first time in his life) never to piss Rufus Shinra off. The guy had bastardry in his very bones, and tactical genius to back it up.

Tseng went very quiet. Rufus tucked his hands into his pockets and continued to smile. 'Of course,' the senior lawyer said, 'we could try to work a backdoor -'

'No,' Tseng growled. For all that he valued his own dignity, he valued the law more - breaking it for his own sake rubbed raw against all his instincts.

'I did already buy the tickets to del Sol,' Rufus said, regretfully. 'Might be worth trying to get out of the programme - you'd enjoy a few weeks on the beach.'

'Are you trying to say,' Tseng said quietly, 'that you were planning a "two month sabbatical" for me on the beaches of del Sol?'

'I would've gone along,' Rufus added. 'So many important things the both of us could do away from the distractions of the main office.'

'Do you have _any_ idea of how much of a scandal that would've -'

'Who in the company doesn't already know?' Rufus retorted. 'It's not like either of us keeps it much of a secret.'

'For those who were not born with a silver spoon in their mouths or a law firm to inherit, professionalism actually matters, Rufus.' Tseng had gone cold.

Reno considered actually clearing out and getting the hell out of there. Nuclear war was going to erupt.

But Rufus didn't take the insult to his family with any seriousness, which was odd. Any other time and he'd have been at Tseng's throat - sleeping with Rufus didn't excuse the partner from making stabs at Rufus' professional acumen.

Tseng fell silent afterwards, contrite.

The president merely shrugged it off. 'If you say so. But the fact of the matter is that the del Sol dates have been blocked out - you need the break, and I'm not going to lose you to burn out and exhaustion. So you could --'

'Give me that form,' Tseng said, pulling it from Rufus' hands.

Rufus smiled again. 'You'd do well at it, you know.'

Reno got away before Rufus and Tseng could disengage. Shinra men? Were fucking terrifying.

A week later, Rufus was in his private office making a phone call. 'Don?' he said into the receiver when the man on the other line picked up. 'Yes, I'm doing fine. The usual; weather in Midgar never changes. I heard about the studio acquiring the prime-time slot for the new programme, congratulations. Yes. Yes. Oh, did he? I was calling to ask about that, actually - I want to call in a favour. Could you drop him from the selection?'

Rufus tapped his pen against the documents on his table and raised an eyebrow. 'You _can't_ or you _won't_, Don? You won't? The best participant your panel has seen in four seasons? Half of the reason why the Saucer is as successful as it is now comes from my help, Don. No, I'm not threatening you - I just want Tseng out of it.'

Rufus stopped playing with his stationery. 'I see. That's how it is, then? Fine. It's agreeable - I'm not happy, Don, but you sound like you can make it worth my while. Additionally, I get live broadcast feeds. No, I don't care if that sounds unreasonable. If you're going to have my best man running around in the snow for six weeks, I want to be watching what you do to him. Yes. All right. I'll fly down tomorrow and sign it. My regards to your wife.'

Rufus put down the phone, and wondered whether to laugh or to curse.

There wasn't much to pack: the producers were going to provide almost everything, and the one personal item that Tseng wanted to bring (his phone) had been all-out banned. He spent the night before the flight out playing chess with Rufus and destroying the other man.

'Since when did you play aggressively?' Rufus asked, struggling to find a way to get out of the gambit Tseng had him in.

'Since you started playing with me,' Tseng said simply, and checkmated one of the most intelligent men in Midgar in two moves.

  
'Hey, boss,' Reno greeted, sailing into Rufus' office with two bottles of beer and a stack full of memos.

It was 6 in the morning of the first day of filming. There was a newly installed set of monitors artfully hidden in one of the old false walls that Rufus' office had - when the wood panelling was opened it revealed four small screens and a satellite antenna.

'Time for the show?' Reno asked as Rufus indicated to an empty seat. He put the beers down (drinking had no timetable with Reno) and made himself comfortable.

'Maybe I should promote you,' Rufus said as he activated the broadcast. The screens flickered to life. 'Because you seem to have far too much time, Reno.'

'Hey, I brought my homework,' the junior partner said, waving at his thick stack of papers. 'Besides, you're going to be lonely for the next month or so. I'm just being nice.'

'Sit down and shut up, Reno,' Rufus said. 'It's starting.'

Tseng looked strange out of his suit and tie. The twenty or so participants were decked out in minimal cold-protection. Some were clearly uncomfortable; Tseng just looked blasé.

'Welcome to Survivor: Icicle Inn!' the host was saying. 'Where you outwit, outplay and outlast.'

'What happens if he wins?' Reno asked.

Rufus shook his head. 'He's not going to win.'

  
Two and a half weeks later and Tseng had, in this order: made himself subtly irreplacable within his team's structure by making their base a tactically impregnable fort; managed to rally support from the weakest members of the group by spotting their strengths and making them crucial during challenges; used the weakest members to vote off his most ardent naysayer; made fast friends with the two most influential leaders and - this was Rufus' opinion - caused the host's eyes to wander a few more times than was socially acceptable.

'He's a _monster_,' Reno said, in awe as the broadcasts cut in to another session of voting.

_'I vote Samuel,' _one of Tseng's brainwashed underlings was saying. _'I think he's a thief and a pervert.'_

(Four days before, Tseng and said "Samuel" had been in charge of the base while the rest of the team went out hunting in the snow. They'd hunkered down to playing with their home-made set of cards, Tseng losing intentionally as Samuel prattled on and on about how he hated Ovelia because, fuck, why wouldn't she sleep with him? Tseng mentioned that she probably just needed time to warm up - why not try to get closer to her? Offer her more food, any special rations... Samuel could go off and try and find something for her - Tseng would watch base camp alone, no problem, no, none at all...)

_'I vote Samuel,'_ said another, holding up his board. _'Because he's an irresponsible bastard who leaves others to do work for him.'_

They were falling like dominos at the push of Tseng's fingers, and Reno wondered why no one had figured it out yet.

'I think they have figured it out,' Rufus said, watching the screens intently. 'They just don't know how to get rid of him without losing ground themselves. Anyone who votes for him will seem like a traitor - and besides, he's practically the only one who's keeping them afloat. The other team's got smart people - Tseng's managed to get every other intelligent life form voted off of his own team. He's practically invulnerable.'

_'I vote Samuel,'_ Tseng was saying to the camera. He held up his board as he explained why: on it was written Samuel's name, and in a smaller font were the words _are you watching?_

'You'd better wear body armour when he comes back, boss,' Reno said to Rufus.

'I doubt,' Rufus said, 'that it would help.'

  
They were down to the last four, and competition was getting stiff. There were mind games being played over mind games over more mind games, but everyone knew that the way to win would be to vote off the next-strongest participant and then hope to outrun the weaker ones.

During one of his free sessions, Tseng walked away from the main encampment and tramped around in the snow for a while, telling the others that he "was going to clear his head". He managed to reach a grove of trees, their limbs all shrivelled and lifeless in the cold.

He slammed his left arm hard into the solid, frozen trunk again, and again, and again until there was a small, sickening sound and --

  
'Jesus christ,' Reno said, back in Midgar. Rufus was pale and angry and calm.

  
The medic pronounced Tseng's arm mildly fractured; it'd heal up perfectly fine, but would he care not to be so careless? They put it in a sling and let him continue on.

'How the hell did you get that?' Ovelia asked, staring.

'Didn't take my skis or the shoes,' Tseng said, face twisted in a tragic mask of pain and self-admonishment. 'I slipped.'

'Damn,' said one of the other finalists, looking anything but displeased.

Reno didn't know what to make of any of it. 'What the hell is he doing?'

'Changing tactics,' Rufus said, eyes narrowed as he watched the four people on screen interact. 'They're all looking to get rid of the smart and strong ones first. Tseng's just decided to make himself stupid and weak.'

  
There were three men in the final four including Tseng; Ovelia was the only woman, and it was unsurprisingly clichéd that all the boys went at each other's throats first.

Tseng - being now unfit and obviously less threatening - practically only had to sit back next to Ovelia and comment that George (who'd failed to win immunity that week) was very... _slimy_ and the next thing anyone knew, there were three people on the island and George was screaming bloody murder as part of his last words.

  
'He isn't,' Rufus said to himself. 'He wouldn't.'

Reno looked at the president over the stack of memos that the both of them had accumulated over the last six weeks. He'd got very good at multitasking. 'What?' he asked.

Rufus was glaring at the monitors with what looked scarily like burning hatred. 'He is,' the president snarled. 'He is going to go that far, the --'

On screen, Tseng kissed Ovelia.

  
It was down to him and her and "the other guy". Reno had been charged with videotaping the remaining sessions, because immediately after Tseng's sweet-and-tender moment with Ovelia Rufus had stormed out of the office and gone to court for the first time in a long, long while.

'He's blowing off steam, I think,' Elena reported when Reno called her during one of the recesses to see how things were going and whether anyone was still alive.

'That's as good as saying everyone in there's been fucked, right?'

'I think the judge was getting a bit worried,' Elena said. 'Rufus almost made the defendant cry.'

'Well, tell the boss to hurry up,' Reno said. 'Because _this_ jury is just about to decide who wins this stupid Survivor game.'

  
The council-or-whatever was convening, and Ovelia was all bright eyed and bushy tailed and --

'What is one thing that you've never told anyone during this game?' one of the panel asked Tseng.

'Oh?' Tseng said, looking very much like he was in the process of a cross-examination. He shrugged.

If he were wearing anything that had pockets, he'd probably have tucked his hands into them, Reno thought. And looked good while doing so. He actually did look good in that lumpy ski thing. What was he going to say?

'I'm gay,' Tseng said.

'Holy _shit_,' Reno said.

'Son of a bitch,' Rufus said from where he'd just walked into the room.

'What?' Ovelia said, and then she burst into tears and announced she was quitting this stupid damn game she hated everyone.

  
'Congratulations!' the host beamed at Tseng. 'You are the winner of _Survivor: Icicle Inn_! What are you going to do with your million gil?'

'Donate it to charity,' Tseng said, accepting the giant cheque with his uninjured hand. 'Or use it to raze Costa del Sol to the ground.'

  
'Welcome home,' Rufus said. Tseng looked good. Tseng also looked smug.

'It's good to be back,' the other man said, adjusting the lining of his jacket. 'Help me with my tie.'

Rufus helped. Tseng was very quiet. It was through willpower alone that Rufus didn't squirm. 'It was a very impressive performance,' the president said, desperate to break the silence.

'Only the fittest,' Tseng said, catching Rufus by the shoulder when the blond tried to pull away, 'survive.'

'That's the most unbearable line I have ever heard out of your mouth,' Rufus said.

Tseng shrugged, and pulled him in. 'Mouths were made for better things than just talk.'

(omake)

'Boss?' Reno said, poking his head into the office. 'Where is - woah.'

'Rufus is occupied at the moment,' Tseng said, sitting at the president's desk. 'Close the door behind you.'

Reno ran. It was the smart thing to do.

When the door clicked shut, Tseng rolled the chair back a little bit and looked down between his legs. He ran his fingers back through bright strands of hair. 'You can continue what you were doing,' he instructed mildly. 'The look suits you, by the way.'


End file.
